


zvezda moya

by cyrusbarrone



Series: Captain America/Man from U.N.C.L.E crossover [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Angst, Bucky is called the asset for like all of this, Crossover, Illya caring for Bucky, M/M, Ranskahov brothers are obviously in the wrong time zone but, sputnik use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5126126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrusbarrone/pseuds/cyrusbarrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya Kuryakin, the KGB up-and-coming agent, teams up with 'The Asset', HYDRA's up-and-coming agent. </p><p>He gets more attached than he should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	zvezda moya

**Author's Note:**

> The Man from U.N.C.L.E just ties in so well with Captain America that I couldn't help myself. Expect a second part to this but with more Napoleon Solo.

Illya had never heard of the organisation named HYDRA. He had found that odd as they were both soviets special agencies and he was more clued up than your average agent on these sorts of things. From what he could tell HYDRA was hidden under layers and layers of secrets that kept their identities hidden. He was not allowed to discuss it with any of the other agents and it seemed that only the highest of KGB members knew about their soviet brother.

They were going to, essentially, team up. He would be working with a select group of people from the HYDRA organisation to complete a mission that was apparently too taxing for either individual group. The KGB hadn't been aware of the mission- the need for it, at least- until HYDRA had made contact with them and proposed their collaboration.  
Illya, being the KGB's best and favourite agent, was asked if he would cooperate. He had agreed without hesitation.

The mission was to infiltrate and neutralise a group that HYDRA had called 'pests'. Other than the likening to rats they were told that the group were a subsection of a cartel- subsection because their beliefs had splintered from the main cartel and had become something more sinister- in Moscow.

The mob was run by a couple of young brothers named Ranskahov. After being orphaned they had become solely dependent on one another for survival, where once they had been royalty they were now hunted for such a label. They had chosen to fight the force with hired goons and a dirty and bloody climb to the top of the drug ladder in Russia, kicking plenty of faces of high people on the way up.

Long story short: the Ranskahov brothers were getting arrogant in their power. They were a threat, to what Illya wasn't sure, but HYDRA were certain that they had to go and the KGB were eager to be on the inner circle of another secret agency. HYDRA didn't seem to be a corporation you wanted to be enemies with.

Illya wasn't to meet the subsection he would be working with until the day of the mission. He thought this odd but Sergey had smiled and said of course like he knew more about what was going on than they were letting Illya know. Apparently his partner, the main man he was working with, came with difficulties that would have to be altered before the mission.

Illya didn't trust an agent that came with difficulties.

It made him doubt HYDRA before they'd even worked together. How was this agent their best if they needed time to get past 'difficulties'?

Moreover, Illya preferred to work alone. With only one person to look out for there were always less casualties and less time wasted- he'd heard other KGB agents going back for their partners resulting in the both of them dying or the stiff lip result of not being able to save them. Illya didn't like that emotional connection, it hindered.

Still, Illya was not going to refuse the mission. That was how he found himself in a boarding room that he had been led to; blindfolded. Sergey was with him and had smiled at him as a black mask was pulled over both their faces- Illya would have fought back but they did not know what HYDRA were capable of. So he let the blindfold be pulled tightly over his eyes and knotted uncomfortably at the back of his head.

They had been led through rooms for what felt like ten minutes, a man’s hands pushing him roughly through the twisting hallways. Indeed they didn't even know where this mysterious base was located, which had confirmed Illya's suspicions of their shroud of secrecy.

The board room was fairly bland. The walls were painted a light grey the same colour as cigarette ash and there was a simple long table through the middle with ash trays on and metal chairs around its perimeter. There was only one way out and men in suits stood on either side, both with firm expressions of distaste. There was a white wall that appeared as though it would be used for the large projector that sat on the far end of the table.

Illya sat at the table next to his boss. His knees hit the underneath of the table and his finger tapped his thigh irritably as he waited for HYDRA's team to arrive. Their punctuality was already irritating him, as it seemed to be lacking and that was not the way of a spy. Or at least that was not the Russian way.

Still, his Boss (Sergey) smiled a pleasant smile for someone of Russian descent (indeed his slimy lips were pressed in a grim line and he was looking around with the eyes of a nervous dog) as they waited for the arrival of someone other than the guards.

Then the door pushed open with the creak of hinges that needed oiling and a group walked in. At the forefront were two men in a uniform that looked military- the dark green button up shirts with tactical pants of the same colour. They had Glock's in their belts and sheathed knives too. One of the men, with a scar down his face, had dark blond hair that was scraped back with gel while the other had dark salt and pepper hair and a nasty smirk.  
Illya rose alongside his boss.

After the two military men there was a tiny hobbled man about the height of Illya's leg. He wore small round spectacles that slipped from his nose and a white lab coat that hung around his ankles.

And behind him was, Illya assumed, the main man he would be working with. He was clad in black leather attire that was tight fitting around his chest and he wore tactical pants of the same colour. His hair was long- at least to his jaw- and his face was set in a subtle frown as he entered the room. Illya made note of how he leant heavily to his left when he walked.

After taking his place at the front of the board room the small lab-coated man ordered, "sit." His hands waved around haplessly before he added, "please."

Sergey sat down first and then the military clad men and then Illya. The chairs made a screeching metal sound as they were pulled out from underneath the cheaply made table. Illya noticed that the second spy remained standing by the door with his arms hanging loosely by his sides.

Looking pointedly towards the man by the door the doctor ordered impatiently, "Asset, sit."

Illya seemed to be the only one disturbed by the fact he was addressed as though he were a dog because after a glance around the military men were smirking their nasty smirks and Sergey was still doing his polite smile. He frowned as he watched the 'Asset' take a seat- he'd looked questioning and concerned as he pulled the chair back, like he was scared that they were just playing and would punish him for sitting.

Illya didn't like HYDRA, he decided as the man carefully perched on the edge of his seat with an expression of anxiety over his features.

"Good, good," muttered the little man. He waddled around the front of the board room, his small formal shoes making a clicking against the linoleum. "Mission briefing."

-

The Ranskahov brothers owned a warehouse in Moscow. In the thirties it had produced a wide range of agricultural products such as fertilisers and pesticides, in the late forties the business had collapsed due to a lack of demand for Russian based products. The years after that had left it abandoned; used instead by squatters and junkies and as a place for prostitutes to be fucked without your spouse finding out.

The Ranskahov brothers had bought it and replaced all broken extremities and gutted the place of all large machinery- it was worth a greater price in scraps than anything else- and replaced it as an area for the creation of a drug that had a long lasting high. Another section of the warehouse was dedicated to armoury- of course they had your typical selection of arms but they also had weapons experts that tinkered with various alternate (alternate because they were illegal not because they had not been thought of) means.

Illya did not know why this needed the secret service and the small hobbled man - Dr Zola - had only elaborated on the fact that these brothers needed to be eradicated and Illya was beginning to think they weren't being told all the facts. The KGB was HYDRA's bitch for this mission and Illya did not like it.

The mission was: capture the Ranskahov brothers and take their workers captive. It seemed too simple for the combination of two secret services but Illya had little choice. He had to continue on with the mission under KGB order.

-

The two military men were going to scout the area and the warehouse. With them was a group of four men in the bulletproof vests (bulky, uncomfortable things that hindered your ability to do just about everything) and tactical pants and they looked a little like bugs with their dull green helmets. After they'd made sure the perimeter was clear of traps and escape vehicles the Asset (Illya was yet to learn his real name) and Illya would enter.

It was their job to locate the Ranskahov brothers while the team of six cleared out the workers. Two of the Bugs would be armed with sniper rifles: one positioned parallel to each other on elevated walkways so they could eliminate threats to the Asset and Illya.

Once the Ranskahov brothers were found they'd be bound and taken by HYDRA.

The Asset and Illya waited behind a wall outside of the warehouse, listening for their cue. The military men had filed in with their team of six walking like the dots of six on a dice before splitting off into two sectors; one going left and the other going right.

The Asset was yet to speak a word. He stood still, as though he'd been frozen in time. The only time Illya had seen him move was to roll his left shoulder and cringe in pain.

"What is your name?" Illya asked him in Russian. His shoulder was pushed against the rough brick of the wall and he held his Walther in his hands, pointed down.

Without physically moving his face, the Asset looked at him. His jaw tensed slightly and his storm grey eyes glanced down to the ground before he looked back towards the warehouse.

Illya frowned: he did not like not knowing about the man he worked with. "Your name cannot be 'Asset'," he ventured first in their native language and then in English, for he was not sure about the Asset even understanding his questions fully.

The Asset looked at him with a mildly aggravated expression. The dark eye makeup they'd smeared over the upper half of his face did little but enhance the storm colour of his eyes and the way they faltered slightly in their annoyance. He replied, in slightly broken Russian, "I do not have a name."

And then the Asset turned his back on him and squared off his bulky shoulders. The end of their conversation.

Illya was working with a man without a name - why had HYDRA taken his name? The more time they spent together the less Illya trusted the corporation Sergey had jumped into the pocket of.

Bang. Bang. Their signal.

The Asset glanced back at him before cocking his gun and moving from their cover. Illya followed a couple of seconds afterwards, fanning to the right where the Asset went left. On the Asset's signal Illya went to the main door of the warehouse and then signalled the other who looked daunting as all Hell approaching in his black leather and slanted step.  
The Asset didn't even glance into the warehouse before marching in. He held his left arm in front of his torso as he walked though Illya was yet to figure out the significance of the arm.

Illya followed behind.

The warehouse was a vast and open space; the floor made of solid concrete and grit. On one side was a set-up of about twenty tables; a couple had laboratory equipment on where others had industrial scales and glass funnels slumped into brown paper baggies. Between two rows of tables was a blackboard with dozens of chalk tally’s across the width.  
The other side of the warehouse had a wall that was possibly a metre tall cutting it off from the openness of the rest of the warehouse. From what Illya could see the workbenches inside the brick walls were full of dismantled weapons and blueprints held open with coffee mugs and ashtrays.

The floating walkways above had their snipers on. Both rifles faced opposite ways; one pointed left and the other right.

There was hardly a sound as Illya and the Asset walked into the warehouse. What HYDRA had done with the Ranskahov brother's associates Illya did not know, for as they glanced into each separate room there was no sign of them.

"Where-"

The Asset turned to him, glaring underneath dark make up. He shoved a gloved finger up to his lips and Illya finally understood the heavy way he leant on his left; why he'd lead with his left arm by his chest- his fingers were metal.

Blinking a little in surprise, Illya withdrew and nodded. He supposed that the Asset had seen something or someone.

They were in a small room that was adjacent to the work shop area. It was well out of the way of the sniper's range. In the room was a desk that was scattered with rough and dirty pieces of paper with transaction details from various countries. One wall was made of metal lockers. In the corner was a large metal lamp lighting a grim yellow into the small space of the room.

There was little else in the room apart from a couple of scuffed chairs and an ashtray with two still burning cigarettes. That was their clue, Illya figured.

The Asset turned with his jaw setting into a straight edge, before he moved, throwing his left arm backwards until a mechanical clicking rippled down its length and a whir of a cooling fan began. Metal arms were obviously riddled with maintenance procedures.

Stillness settled on the room before The Asset broke step and marched over towards the hanging open set of metal lockers. Illya went to the door and glanced out, ignoring the crunching of metal as the door of the locker was ripped off and thrown across the room.

"Come here," The Asset ordered in his accented Russian. He was leant into the locker as though expecting to find a lion or a witch.

When Illya came over he adjusted his arms so that his Walther was pointed towards the bare back of the locker set. Then the Asset proceeded to throw the whole weight of his metal arm against the back wall in succeeding creaking noises. Quite the dent appeared, and it dipped into the spot where the wall should have been. Once the back had pulled off the locker the Asset tucked his fingers underneath the gap and tore. The back came off like he'd been peeling stickers from a plate. It, too, was thrown onto the other side of the room.

Illya held up his Walther, followed the Asset through to the hidden room. It was fairly small and clearly only used for moments like this for the floor was covered in a layer of dust only disturbed by some scrambled foot prints and there was nothing in there. Well, except for the two blond young men.

"HYDRA?" asked a man with a scar down his cheek. It was packed with black and cut right across his eye. "What does HYDRA want with us?"

The elder of the two, he only knew this because of their grainy photographs, was leant against the wall with a knife in his hands. He had a look of amusement on his face. "Calm, _Volodya_ ," he ordered, pushing away from the wall and smirking at them.

The Asset was twitching where he stood still, like he was finding a fault and trying to flush his system. Illya scowled, set his expression and pointed his Walther up, but it was too late.

Anatoly Ranskahov launched like a serpent. He flew past his brother and onto the Asset who only then seemed to come back to reality. They struggled between one another for a while before the metal arm snapped to the side and pushed under the elder Ranskahov's jaw and from there he was slammed backwards into a wall. His face was a deep plum as the arm whirred and Vladimir cried out in anger and shot at him, at Illya but his emotions left him slack and useless and the bullet simply ricocheted off the arm and didn't get close to Illya at all.

Illya marched forwards and grabbed Vladimir like a rag doll; hauling him closer and pinning his wrists together with one hand. Mission done, he thought, Walther pressed to Vladimir's kidney.

And then Anatoly grinned- his eyes were bulging crudely, and were tinged pink like his cheeks which matched in their burgundy. His breath struggled around the hand jammed into his neck and it took him a few tries but then-- "S- Sputnik!"

It was in slow motion after that.

The metal hand around Anatoly's neck froze in its position. The Asset's storm eyes blew wide with black dilated pupils. His body seemed to go limp as he fell back to the ground with a thump. In the shock of it all, the Ranskahov brothers disappeared.

"What--"

Illya rushed to the only exit and poked his head out of it but there was no sign whatsoever of the brothers. Illya swore under his breath, stuck in that impossible position, that awful position, that he'd forever tried to avoid. Break mission protocol and cater to his fallen partner; or follow the brothers and complete the mission.

His immediate choice was to follow the brothers. He had a reputation; he was the up-and-coming KGB agent and he wanted to keep climbing that ladder, but... But then he thought of the Asset. The man that wasn't even allowed a name; the man who seemingly knew nothing but missions and the man who looked so broken in the midst of the storm of his eyes.

And then Illya did the stupid thing he'd always tried to avoid. He compromised the mission for a man who he couldn't help.

A frown settled heavy between his eyebrows as he walked back to his fallen partner. Outside he could hear shots being fired and wondered if it's the Ranskahov brother's victory or their defeat; before he may have wished them well but now he hoped that bullets found their hearts. Perhaps one died in front of the other.

Illya dropped to the floor next to the Asset.

"Bad word," he mumbles to himself. He organised the Asset's head onto his lap, scraped back his lank hair from his pale face. His hands stayed there, feeling his clammy and pale forehead and his cold cheeks. "Come on, Soldier."

Illya wasn't sure how long they were like that for. Gun shots continued for a while; perhaps half of the time. But then it all became quiet. He supposed HYDRA and the KGB would wonder where they were and come looking for them soon.

He didn't want HYDRA to find them.

HYDRA, he decided, were toxic. He'd known subconsciously from the beginning; where Zola had spoken to the Asset like a dog, but the collapse was confirmation. They'd clearly programmed him - god knows how they programmed a human - to deactivate at that word. He didn't want that to happen to him again.

Illya, in his young naivety wanted to protect the Asset from HYDRA and any other bad that could come to him. It was a childish sense that with the right intentions things would get better, but he stuck to it. He, in his most functional mind, knew that letting HYDRA take the Asset back would be wrong and it would settle heavy on his heart for years to come if he let it happen.

The Asset did not wake for a while. His subconscious body was completely frozen save the slight moving of his mouth every now and then. Illya stroked his fingers over his hair and mumbled stories of Russia to him.

The voices of HYDRA and KGB agents got more apparent as he retold a story of his childhood to his unconscious partner.

Then the Asset woke up and he seemed different. For one his face held expression; his eyebrows were scrunched together and raised towards his hairline and his mouth opened into a gasp like he’d had his head underwater for minutes too long. His hands launched at Illya and grabbed his shoulders, using him as an anchor to pull himself up. The most significant difference, Illya noticed as the Asset panted onto his face, was a sudden life and a sudden wildness in his eyes.

“Steve?” murmured the Asset. His voice was different. The tinge of Russian accent he’d had before had dissolved entirely and he sounded very American. Illya couldn’t place where specifically. The Asset sat up, and grabbed Illya’s face between his cold hands, tilting his head until their eyes met. “Stevie, you’re okay?”

Illya was confused, of course, but it felt wrong to say that he wasn’t Steve. He felt that this Steve person he asked for was a comfort that he grabbed on to whenever he broke from whatever the hell HYDRA had done to him. Glancing down at the ground, only slightly embarrassed by this predicament, Illya said, “I’m okay. Are you?”

The Asset smiled at him. He had crooked teeth across the bottom row and a dimple on his chin and he looked so awfully different from when he was hard glares and muttered Russian. “HYDRA’s gone?” he asked eyes lit like a child’s, happy and free. His fingers still caressed at Illya’s jaw, their noses were a couple of inches apart and Illya was certainly blushing. It was not the Russian way to be this close to a man but… but he didn’t mind.

“We got rid of them,” Illya agrees, saying what the soldier would want to hear.

The Asset grins and draws him closer until their foreheads are pressed together and Illya can see his smile up close. “Bucky Barnes and Stevie Rogers escape Nazi bastard’s 2.0,” he said, and then he kissed Illya with their teeth butting in his grin.

Illya’s cheeks were on fire and his eyes were wide open. Bucky pulled away from their closed mouthed kiss and smirked at him, eyes dark.

Bucky Barnes. The Asset had a name. The Asset was someone—what was he doing with HYDRA? Who was HYDRA? How could he help Bucky Barnes?

“Let’s go find the boys then,” Bucky Barnes said. And then it all went wrong.

HYDRA agents marched into the little hidey-hole. They were the agents from earlier; the man with the cruel smile and the salt and pepper hair and the scarred blond man. Between them walked a blonde man with blue eyes and a cruel face.

Bucky Barnes and Illya looked at one another. Illya wanted nothing more than to shoot all those men down and get Bucky Barnes out of harm’s way, but his Walther was discarded on the ground and didn’t have enough shots in. There wasn’t anything he could do.

“Steve?” Bucky murmured, glancing between the men and shuffling backwards a little on his knees. His childish happiness was turning into confusion and then into fear. His metal hand grabbed at Illya’s and squeezed it and Illya looked helplessly at him and at HYDRA.

Illya held his metal hand. His other hand twitched with aggravation at their situation. He wished he hadn’t gotten assigned to the Ranskahov brothers and their stupid drug cartel. “We are okay, _zvezda moya_.”

Bucky looked confused before his face suddenly contorted. His mouth set into a straight line and his eyebrows furrowed in a frown and the energy left his eyes last. He dropped Illya’s hand and looked up to the HYDRA agents at the door.

Within moments they were grabbing him around the biceps and hauling him from the ground. Bucky didn’t even look back as he was dragged out of the hidey-hole. Illya watched him leave for the whole time.

The KGB lost contact with HYDRA after the failed mission to detain the Ranskahov brothers.

Illya Kuryakin was expected to forget Bucky Barnes, but he never did.

**Author's Note:**

> zvezda moya - my star 
> 
> please tell me what you think ^^ and feel free to check out my tumblr (docbossybeck.tumbr.com) and my other fics c:


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